


needed

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s07e06 Adapt or Die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Daisy wakes up; Sousa's still there.
Relationships: Skye | Daisy Johnson/Daniel Sousa
Comments: 32
Kudos: 317





	needed

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once again to [Ness](https://agentmmayy.tumblr.com/) for correcting my overindulgence of commas!

When she wakes up, she hurts.

That’s not surprising since the last thing she remembers is Nathaniel Malick looming over her with a knife and a sadistic smile that doesn’t remind her of Gideon at all. The scariest part is how unlike his brother Nathaniel is - he’s his own kind of monster, completely unique to this timeline. They’ve made the world worse, not better, by letting him live.

(Does he deserve mercy? Daisy doesn’t know. Her brain’s still too foggy to process an overarching moral conundrum about whether evil is inborn, or who deserves her mercy.)

But she wakes up, which must mean that _something_ good happened because she honestly didn’t expect to wake up at all.

The first thing she has to do is cover her eyes; the light pounding down on her is bright white and it _hurts_ almost as much as the rest of her body. Daisy tries to breathe and that hurts too, and it’s overwhelming and claustrophobic and - 

Uneven footsteps make their way over to her side and in a moment, the light is shut off. Which would be great if it didn’t reveal just how close the ceiling of the cradle is. The breath she had just tried to inhale gets stuck halfway down her throat and Daisy chokes on it for far too long. The bees beneath her skin are buzzing louder than they normally do, and Daisy assumes it’s because her body’s getting used to having its powers again, but all this is just too much, _too much_.

“Agent Johnson. Can you hear me?”

Hear, yes. Respond, no, because she still can’t breathe right! Daisy isn’t normally one to panic, but not being able to _breathe_ is definitely panic worthy and -

A warm hand slides into hers, calluses rough against her palm. It still aches from where she shoved the piece of glass into it but the pressure, the warmth - it’s good, it’s grounding, it turns her senses down a notch, and when Sousa’s fingers curl around hers it’s like the bees have been smoked. Or maybe they’re just confused because _Daisy_ is confused. Why is he holding her hand?

“Agent Johnson?” he repeats.

“Daisy,” she croaks, voice rough against the dryness of her throat. “My name is Daisy.”

And just like that, she can breathe again. Apparently, she’ll always have enough breath to correct a man who’s wrong.

“Right. Daisy.” He lets go of her hand as quickly as he’d grabbed it, but Daisy has enough of her senses back to not be entirely overwhelmed. It still takes her three seconds too long to process that Sousa’s said something, and then -

“Sorry, what?”

“I said, you’ve been out for a while.” He limps back over to the stool, lowers himself down into it with a wince. Daisy winces, too, but the sympathetic gesture soon turns into a gasp of pain when she realizes she is _definitely_ not entirely healed.

“Take it easy. Simmons told me I should get her if you woke up, but -”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that.” He grins at her, and it’s not exactly lopsided, but there’s something behind it Daisy can’t recognize or define. “You’re a fighter.”

“Kinda had to be.” She knows better than to shrug now, so she just keeps her eyes on him, and hopes he understands the sentiment.

“Right.” Sousa runs his hand through his hair. “You want me to get you something? Water?”

“How did I get here?” It’s taken her this long to realize she has no clue what happened in between her impromptu surgery and her waking up.

“Well, that’s kind of a long story. You sure you don’t want any water?”

“I’ve got a long time.” It’s not like she can move from the cradle, which she’s trying not to think about too hard because there’s nothing in this world Daisy hates more than being trapped.

Except for maybe being involuntarily cut into, because really, once was _more_ than enough.

“Yeah.” Sousa stands up again, drags his stool over to the head of the cradle instead of the foot, where it’d been before. 

“What happened?” Daisy asks again.

“I stabbed a guy. The other guy said his bones were breaking or something.” Sousa runs his hand through his hair again. Daisy’s beginning to think it’s a nervous tic of some sort because no way does someone with _that_ perfect of hair need to be touching it all the time. “And then I carried you.”

“I thought you said it was a long story.” Her lips crack open when she smiles, and Daisy squeezes her eyes shut.

“I’ll get you that water.” There’s no question in his voice this time, and a minute later he’s back with a glass. He holds it to her lips and acts like there’s nothing weird about having to assist a grown woman in drinking her own goddamn water (because, yeah, it _really_ hurts to move, or even to be awake). When she’s done he sets it nearby, as if she’ll somehow be able to grab it herself if she needs more. It’s a nice thought, at least.

“The long part comes after,” Sousa says as he settles back onto his stool. “I’m not supposed to tell you any of this until you’re stable,” he adds as an afterthought.

“But you’re gonna anyway.”

There’s his hand through his hair again. “Yeah. Yeah, I am. Because you deserve to know.”

He meets her eyes, and for a moment, Daisy’s _scared_. People only look at her like this when they’re about to give bad news, and she really doesn’t need more bad news right now.

“Your dad - Coulson, I mean… he’s gone.”

Funnily enough, _he’s gone_ doesn’t register until after _your dad_. Sousa thinks Phil is her dad. Which isn’t wrong, but it’s weird that someone finally sees it. Sees her. It’s been a while since she’s been seen.

But now it hurts to breathe for an entirely different reason.

 _I just got him back_ , she wants to say. _I still need him_ , she wants to say. Instead, she blinks up at the top of the cradle and says, “Thanks for telling me.”

“Um. You’re welcome.” It would almost be painful how obviously awkward Sousa is if he didn’t seem so damn _earnest_. “Is there - is there anything I can do? I probably should have told your mom you’re awake, now that I’m thinking of it, but -”

“No. It’s okay.” It’s not okay, but Daisy’s not sure if she can be around May right now. She wants the comfort, but if May touches her…

Daisy knows how to hide her devastation. She lets May see through the cracks, and sometimes she lets other people see through, too, but it’s _different_ , to let May feel what she feels. It’s one thing to see devastation. It’s another to feel it, to let it consume you and pull you apart and wreck you completely.

“Okay.” His hand rakes through his hair one last time and almost seems like he’s about to leave.

She doesn’t want him to leave, though. She doesn’t want to be alone right now, and it’s… it’s easier with someone she can lie to. Everyone else will ask questions she doesn’t want to answer or give her apologies they probably don’t quite mean. Sousa’s good at sitting and being quiet. But he’s _there_ , and that’s an odd sort of comfort. 

“Should I go?” he asks, confirming her suspicions.

“No,” Daisy answers. “I think you’re right where you need to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, open for prompts on [tumblr](https://bobbimorseisbisexual.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
